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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662015">You, Servant!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthurandhisswordbros/pseuds/arthurandhisswordbros'>arthurandhisswordbros</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Episode: s01e01 Dragon's Call, Ghosts, Humor, Kinda, M/M, Season/Series 01, canon AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:09:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthurandhisswordbros/pseuds/arthurandhisswordbros</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You, servant!” the man barks in a brisk tone. He’s pointing at Merlin, facing him from the side and bouncing on his toes as though he has somewhere better to be. “Go fetch my father! I have urgent news for him.”</p><p>Merlin looks at him dumbly from where he’s wringing out a soggy pair of breeches.</p><p>“What are you doing?” the man asks, outraged.</p><p>“Uh,” Merlin looks to the breeches, to the clothesline, then back to the man. He shrugs. “Laundry, I guess.”</p><p>“No, you daft idiot, why don’t you do as I command? I am your prince. Now, go fetch my father!” the man commands, then promptly disappears into thin air.</p><p>Well, that was weird.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been holding on to this one for a long time. It isn't beta-ed because honestly, I'm going through a tough time right now and I just want to get it out there lol. I hope you like it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Merlin’s having a solid day, all said and done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t much different than the usual in Ealdor—with its ever-climbing stalks of unkempt grass, wooden gates, bleating goats, and nosy villagers. But today there’s a nice breeze in the air. Sometimes it’s all you can ask for on a hot summer’s day. So, Merlin decides to make the most of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mother,” he calls on his way out of their small hovel. “I’m heading to the clearing with Will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Merlin, sweet, can you take care of the laundry before you go?” she calls back, sticking her head out of the kitchen to look at him challengingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For one self-indulgent second, he thinks about refusing, but ultimately decides better of it.  “Sure.” He flashes her a too wide smile, which she returns with a partially stilted one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Without</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic, Merlin,” she says. Now, she’s the one smiling widely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Mother,” he says dully, but doesn’t push it. It’s been a bit tense between them ever since Will found out about Merlin’s magic. Even tenser with his mother’s casual mentioning of sending Merlin away somewhere, as though </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to happen. Luckily, he’s been able to get her to settle on the matter, especially with Will promising to keep quiet, but it’s still a sore subject between them and he isn’t entirely sure she’s ruled it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” his mother calls. She approaches him by the doorway, then gives him a kiss on the cheek. “You know I love you, right?” she asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he does. She’s just trying to keep him safe; he knows that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had an inkling,” Merlin says sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just an inkling, huh? Nothing more?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet, but I’ll update you should it form into a passing thought. When it becomes a full-fledged idea, you’ll definitely know,” he says cheekily. She smacks him on the arm with a dirty cloth and he shuffles out with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin is almost finished hanging the laundry when a man suddenly appears before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, servant!” the man barks in a brisk tone. He’s pointing at Merlin, facing him from the side and bouncing on his toes as though he has somewhere better to be. “Go fetch my father! I have urgent news for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looks at him dumbly from where he’s wringing out a soggy pair of breeches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” the man asks, outraged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Merlin looks to the breeches, to the clothesline, then back to the man. He shrugs. “Laundry, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“No, you daft idiot, why don’t you do as I command? I am </span><em><span>your</span></em> <em><span>prince</span></em><span>. Now, go fetch my father!” the man commands, then promptly disappears into thin air.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that was weird. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looks around, hoping to find someone to share his confusion with, but nobody seems to have noticed the strange man shouting about servants and royalty. Merlin once again looks down to the soggy breeches he’s still holding. Can inhaling leftover lye fumes make you hallucinate?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It happens again later that day when Merlin is trying to sleep. He cancelled his plans with Will and told his mother he wasn’t feeling well, so she told him to lie down and sleep it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How dare you sleep on the job, servant!” the man yells. Merlin startles in his spot on the floor. The man stalks over to the window nearby. “The sun is halfway through the sky. Are you some sort of degenerate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin groans, looking up at the man with squinting eyes. So much for sleeping it off then. Merlin turns over onto his stomach, smothering his face into his pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I asked you a question!” the man says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe if Merlin ignores him, he’ll go away.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Answer me!” The man stomps over to him. “I am </span><em><span>your</span></em> <em><span>prince</span></em><span>!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin lets out another groan. He jolts angrily in his little makeshift bed, completely frustrated. He opens his eyes to look at the man, who looks startled and slightly offended. “Why do you keep saying you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>my prince?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You know, for a pickup line, it’s pretty played out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man sputters indignantly, obviously caught off guard. “I-it’s not a pick-up-line!” he argues, then disappears like a petulant child.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin hums to himself. Figures. He turns back over onto his stomach, deciding to write this one off as just a dream, even though he knows better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin is starting to run out of excuses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Servant!” The man calls. Thankfully, Merlin isn’t doing anything important at the time, just enjoying a night out in the clearing, stargazing. It’s his safe place, his time to relax and get away from his responsibilities, from his mother’s worried glances, and even from Will when he’s being annoying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a wide and open space, not small and cluttered like most things in Ealdor. It reminds him that there are grander things out in the world, makes him feel like they’re waiting for him, even if he doesn’t ever plan on leaving. He just likes the idea that they could be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, if you continue to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude</span>
  </em>
  <span> and call me that, I’m not going to answer you,” Merlin says. “And I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not going to go out with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Except you just did,” the man points out smugly, then freezes. “Answer me…that is.” His face hardens, covering up his embarrassment. “And I told you it wasn’t a pickup line.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you say.” Merlin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. In reality, the man isn’t that bad looking. No, now that Merlin takes the time to look at him, he’s actually quite…beautiful. For a possible hallucination, that is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hair is relatively short, but curling just slightly around his ears, and his face is clean-shaven. He’s dressed in ordinary clothes, but despite this, Merlin gets the feeling that he’s just a little too well kempt for Ealdor. It makes sense, given the whole “prince” thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin chuckles to himself, glad that his imagination has some sense of continuity. If he’s really gone crazy, then at least he’s got that going for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you insist on being so insolent?” the man asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is my space,” Merlin says, gesturing to the empty clearing with wide, open arms. “I can be whatever I want to be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man looks around. “Where are we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re in Ealdor,” Merlin says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ealdor?” the man asks, sounding the word out. “Where’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s in Essetir,” Merlin says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cenred’s kingdom,” the man barks and Merlin nods. “Why would we be in Cenred’s kingdom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I live here—have my whole life,” Merlin says. “Why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man makes to respond, but stops, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. It’s very…cute. Merlin feels a flash of irritation at himself for thinking it. He shouldn’t be engaging with this apparition, much less developing some sort of weird crush on him. Wouldn’t that be pathetic?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know…” the man says, head suddenly turning each and every way, like he’s looking for something, but can’t quite find what he’s searching for. “I’m supposed to be in Camelot…in the castle. I live there. I’m the prince.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> prince?” Merlin asks. “I thought you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> prince?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not if we’re not in Camelot,” the man says, smirking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin tries not to be offended. He has no right to be offended. “So, why are you here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This makes the man pause. “I-I’m not quite sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin decides to try a different path. “Earlier, you said that you had some sort of urgent message. What was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man looks at him then and despite his stoic, almost passive face, Merlin can tell that he’s actually...scared. The man shakes his head frantically. “I don’t know,” he says, more to himself than to Merlin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Merlin placates, knowing that he’s not going to get much else out of him. “Do you want to look at the stars with me, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” the man asks, thrown off, but he doesn’t look scared anymore, so Merlin takes it as a win. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you can tell how close we are from the castle by the constellations,” Merlin says. Really, he just thinks that the man needs to calm down. If stargazing works for Merlin, why shouldn’t it for him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” the man says shakily after a pause, then lies down next to Merlin. The stars lull them both into peaceful, slow breathing. Eventually, the man lets out a sigh and disappears once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man appears before him many more times after that, usually when Merlin doesn’t want him to—when he’s hanging out with Will, trying to sleep, or doing chores with his mother. Not that Merlin wants him to show up, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This happens for about a week or so, the man popping into Merlin’s peripheral on and off. Every time, he looks at Merlin like he’s the most confounding creature that he’s ever come in contact with, then disappears, often before Merlin can even try to start a conversation. Not that he would want to do anything to keep the man around for longer than necessary. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, who is he kidding? This is the most interesting thing to happen to Merlin since he learned how to make his boots race around the house when he was five. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Consequently, after a while, Merlin finds himself getting used to and even anticipating the man’s appearances. Merlin was always one to grow attached to people too easily, anyways; when he latches onto something or someone, he latches on for life. It’s a quality of his that has generally yielded more positive results than not, so he can’t complain. Just ask Will. After just one hour of making mud pies together when they were small, Merlin promptly declared Will as his new best friend, and they’ve been practically inseparable ever since.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And due to the nature of…whatever the man is or whatever powers are binding him to Merlin, it looks like he and Merlin won’t be separating any time soon, even if Merlin wanted them to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, my dear! Can you gather the dishes when you’re done?” his mother calls from the other room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin,” the man repeats, suddenly appearing. “What kind of name is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name,” Merlin says around his last bite of porridge, surprised that the man is speaking to him this time. “Why? Do you have a better one?” Merlin stands up from his place at the table, then begins gathering and stacking dirty bowls, cups, and wooden spoons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Arthur, obviously,” the ma—Arthur says. “Prince Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur,” Merlin says slowly with a grimace, as though the word feels wrong in his mouth. “Sounds pretentious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, it doesn’t!” Arthur argues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate to break it to you, but it does,” Merlin says. “And from what I’ve seen so far, the name fits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur scoffs. “What would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You’re just a peasant with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>peasant’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> name, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stops short. “What did we say about being rude?” he asks sharply, but there’s no real heat behind it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t say anything about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> did,” Arthur responds just as sharply. “And rudeness begets rudeness, Merlin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin faintly thinks that he likes the way Arthur says his name—even when it’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>dripping</span>
  </em>
  <span> with disdain, maybe even especially so in that case. Arthur’s voice has this very refined, proper lilt to it, one that almost makes Merlin think that he isn’t imagining him, that for some reason a prince from a neighboring kingdom has come to visit </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people. But that can’t be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin wants to ask him about it, but is a bit hesitant to do so, especially after the reaction he had last time to Merlin’s prodding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Merlin admits, instead. “Let’s try not to be rude with each other, then. Or we can be equally rude to each other all off the time, but with the knowledge that it doesn’t really mean anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of arrangement is that?” Arthur asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin turns to face him. “A friendly one. Or, one that friends have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Friends?” Arthur laughs out loud. “As though I would become friends with a simple peasant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you just did,” Merlin says with a wide smile because he’s already decided, just like he decided with Will.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin then gathers the half-forgotten stack of dishes and makes his way to the large basin in the next room. Arthur doesn’t follow him, already having disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where do you go?” Merlin asks Arthur the next time he appears. It’s a lazy time of day and he’s attempting to whittle a cut piece of branch into a dog. He’s recently taken up doing this after he’s done all of his chores for the day, mostly because his mother says that he can’t just spend all of his free time lying in the clearing or goofing around with Will.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur gives him a questioning look. “What do you mean?” He looks more relaxed now, so Merlin figures that some light questioning might work, as long as he doesn’t force it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When you’re not here, where do you go?” Merlin asks, whittling forgone. It was looking less like a dog and more like a blob with ears anyway. “You said you’re from Camelot. Do you go back there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This seems to throw Arthur for a loop. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything you can remember? From home, perhaps?” Merlin asks, trying to be neutral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pauses, thinking. “I think I can remember...decorations. We were celebrating something, and it was last notice—I know this because I had to release my manservant, Morris, from his duties to go help out in the kitchen. You’d like him, you’re both completely dull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As though you’re a good judge of character,” Merlin shoots back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I associate myself with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so probably not,” Arthur says. “Not that I seem to have a choice otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m just as stuck with you as you are with me,” Merlin says, but he keeps his tone light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Arthur asks. “Do you think I’m dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Merlin says. He’s still not entirely sure that Arthur really exists yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, there has to be a reason we’re stuck together, right?” Arthur says, not sounding so confident.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s answer is the same. “I don’t know.” But he wishes he did. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nods thoughtfully, then disappears. Merlin decides to go back to his whittling. Starting with a new branch, this time, he decides to make a dragon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, despite his mother’s wishes, and his better knowledge, Merlin uses his magic to help with his chores. It’s not necessarily because they are too difficult or tedious, it's just that...his magic is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>part </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him. And trying to hide it or separate himself from it is much harder than his mother can understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, who cares if he uses it to help him gather the kindling? He’s out past the clearing, covered by trees. It’s not like anyone can see him do it, anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You-you’re a sorcerer,” Arthur says. Well, except for him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although Merlin has gotten used to Arthur’s appearances, this time he’s startled enough into dropping his bundle of dried twigs, which were previously hanging in the middle of the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin can feel his own face harden. “It’s not illegal here.” Not illegal, but dangerous. He bends low to gather the falling twigs from the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In Camelot, you would be hanged for that,” Arthur says. “Perhaps even burned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, for talking back to you?” Merlin asks, being purposefully obtuse. “Please, do arrest me, my lord. I’ve committed the most egregious of sins.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I mean,” Arthur says. “And maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>arrest you.” He reaches for Merlin’s wrist, perhaps to pull it behind Merlin’s back, but his hand passes right through, never making contact with Merlin’s skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This shocks Merlin into dropping his bundle once again. Cursing himself, he leans back down to collect them again. Once he’s finished, he looks back up, only to see that Arthur is looking at his own hand absently. He tries to swipe it across Merlin’s head, but it just goes through again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do to me?” Arthur asks. His anger is like that of a petrified wave, hanging in the air and threatening to crash down on the both of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stands up straight. “I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you must’ve. You’re a sorcerer,” he spits. “Something like this can only be done with sorcery!” He gestures to himself, trying to indicate that his ghostly state is all Merlin’s fault. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps, but it’s not my doing,” Merlin says. “Why would I call some random prince, if that’s what you are—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, I’m a prince, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As you said, I’m just a simple peasant with a simple peasant’s name,” Merlin finishes. He starts ahead, hopping and sidestepping all of the dips and turns in the forest floor without looking. He knows them all like the back of his hand at this point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur follows him on foot, following the same pathway. But where Merlin turns and hops over a large branch, Arthur walks right through it, not seeming to notice as he does. “I’ll be watching you from now on,” he says, eyes squinting. “Like a hawk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you enjoy watching me collect the kindling,” Merlin says, letting said kindling lift from his arms and back into the air, mostly just to annoy Arthur, who gasps next to him. When Merlin looks back over for his reaction, he’s disappeared again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pops in every few hours, like he usually does. Each time, he stares Merlin down like </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the source of all of his problems. Sometimes he appears very suddenly, jumping into Merlin’s vision like he’s expecting to catch him performing some arcane ritual sacrifice, or pricking a doll made up to look like his royal highness. He generally calms down when he catches Merlin doing neither. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, after a few days of Merlin barely performing any magic at all—he’s still trying to lie low—Arthur starts to look a little...bored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Figures, then, that he would catch Merlin just as he’s enchanting the dishes to wash themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you do that?” Arthur asks. His face is a bit triumphant, like he’s finally got enough evidence against Merlin to prosecute him under Camelotian law. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most times I don’t,” Merlin says simply, leaning back against the wall in their small kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Arthur asks. “I don’t understand. Are you cursed, then?” His voice is oddly sincere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Merlin can’t help but smile. “Well, maybe, with you here.” Arthur scowls at that. “What I mean is, it’s not something I often have to think about. My mom said I was making things float before I could even walk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before you could </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur asks incredulously. “How did you learn so young?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin laughs out loud. “I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>learn</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything. I was born with my magic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looks at him like he’s caught him in a lie, like Merlin should be ashamed of being dishonest with royalty such as himself. But the longer Merlin remains silent, the softer Arthur’s face becomes. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get anything out, Merlin’s mother is walking into the kitchen with a smile on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you laughing about?” she asks brightly, but her smile drops as Merlin drops the still self-animating dishes and cloth. The little crease in between her eyebrows gets deeper and her eyes are full of disappointment. “Merlin, what did we say about this? What if someone else walked in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re in our own house. I thought it’d be okay,” Merlin defends uselessly. Really, he didn’t think about it. He was just being lazy and they both know it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother gives him a scolding look, then turns to wash the dishes by hand. Merlin approaches her cautiously in an effort to help, not missing Arthur’s questioning look as he does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few minutes of scrubbing, rinsing, and drying, Merlin carefully breaches the quiet. “I’m sorry,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The disappointment and anger fade from his mother’s expression almost instantaneously, her eyes now lit with compassion. “I know. It’s okay, I understand. You just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>we just</span>
  </em>
  <span>—well, we have to be careful. You know what could happen if word got out about your magic.” She places the stone bowl she was holding in the pile with the other dried dishes, then turns to wrap her arms around him, petting his hair softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Merlin says against her shoulder. “I’ll do better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want you to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says. She leans back to look at him in the eye. “Maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> send you away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Merlin argues. “I won’t leave you. I want you to be safe, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s mom nods her head at this, but Merlin gets the sneaking suspicion that while he’s won this battle, the war is far from over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later on, Arthur appears before Merlin as he’s lying in the clearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you keep your magic a secret? I thought you said it isn’t illegal,” Arthur says, apropos of nothing. Or perhaps not. What was hours ago for Merlin may have been mere seconds for Arthur. And Merlin wasn’t sure during what part of the conversation he left, only that he was gone when Merlin and his mother finished cleaning up. He guesses he has his answer now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not, but Cenred has been known to collect sorcerers,” Merlin says. “And I’m not too keen on fighting another man’s wars. Plus, I can’t leave my mother here, not now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Arthur asks, as though it doesn’t cost him anything to do so. But what’s a social intrusion between a prince and a peasant?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kanen and his men like to raid Ealdor during harvesting season. Last year we were barely left with enough to get us through the rest of the winter. This time, we think he means to take it all, by force if he has to. I will not see her hurt,” Merlin says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if it means using your magic?” Arthur asks quietly. “Even if it means being taken away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Merlin says without hesitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s almost...noble of you,” Arthur says, looking down and away from Merlin. He’s wearing an unreadable expression, but in lieu of saying anything else, he lies down aside Merlin in the soft grass with a sigh, even though Merlin knows he doesn’t feel any physical change from it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin smiles. “You’re going to have to decide, then,” he says, looking to Arthur at his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Decide what?” Arthur asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I’m just a peasant with a peasant’s name, an evil sorcerer, or almost...noble,” Merlin says, looking back up. He doesn’t mean for the question to come out so seriously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somewhere in between all three,” Arthur says. “So, you’re alright, I guess. For a sorcerer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re alright, too, I guess,” Merlin says, shrugging, “for a pompous prince.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur doesn’t disappear for a long time, but he doesn’t say anything, either. That’s fine. Merlin finds that he enjoys his company, even in silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should come to Camelot,” Arthur says about a week later, as though it’s taken him that long to come up with perhaps the worst plan ever. He’s caught Merlin at a bad time—he’s currently throwing stones across the small lake next to the clearing with Will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Merlin asks out loud before he thinks better of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Will asks, confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should come to Camelot,” Arthur repeats, pressing on. “You can ask my father for aid to help you defeat Kanen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to go to the place that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> said would have me burned at the stake?” Merlin asks. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d have a lot of luck there. I might as well go to Cenred, now. At least with him I won’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Probably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will swats Merlin across the head playfully. “Who are you talking to?” he asks, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow,” Merlin says, rubbing his head. He gestures to Arthur. “I’ve got this weird prince guy in my head and he’s trying to send me to my death!” He punctuates the last part by looking Arthur in the eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will’s eyes glaze over where Arthur is, never catching on the prince’s form. “Is it a magic thing, then?” he asks. Merlin nods because it’s the most likely option and Will goes back to throwing stones, uttering something like, “Only you, Merlin,” under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin can’t help but smile despite himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is why he and Will are such good friends. Arthur, on the other hand…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You obviously wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone about the magic thing,” Arthur argues, as though it’s really that easy. “And while you’re there, you can find out what happened to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin scoffs. “Is that what this is about, then? You want me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>investigate</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Arthur argues. “Okay—well, maybe. But I do want to help you with your village. And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You and I both know that going to Cenred for help is useless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s right about that; Cenred doesn’t care about the smaller villages, especially one like Ealdor, which is so far from the kingdom it might as well not exist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Camelot would?” Merlin asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. “Not normally, no,” Arthur says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin throws his hands in exasperation. “Then what’s the point—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But,” Arthur interrupts, “this isn’t a normal situation. You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>in your head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how is that a good thing, again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think about it,” Arthur continues, “I can tell you anything you need to know—where to go, who to talk to, how to get an audience, and what to say to win my father’s favor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I could do that even with your help,” Merlin says, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, probably not,” Arthur says. “But if you find a way to reverse…whatever this is, and return me back to my body, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looks at him for a minute, contemplating. He can’t help but admit that Arthur makes a strange sort of good point. It could </span>
  <em>
    <span>theoretically</span>
  </em>
  <span> be his best shot, if he wants to both keep his mother safe </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> stay by her side. Kanen’s men won’t come until harvesting season, which isn’t for at least another month, so Merlin has the time to do it. And it would get Arthur out of his personal business, which makes the deal actually enticing enough to consider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin is about to turn Arthur down officially, when he catches the expression on Arthur’s face—a desperate, pleading look, his emotions so potent that he can’t even keep up his usual façade of stoic, unbothered royalty. It almost strikes Merlin as funny, because just a week or so ago, Arthur looked at him as though he were dirt under his shoe, then he looked at him like he was the worst type of human being possible, and now it’s as though Merlin is his last hope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not even sure you’re real,” Merlin argues. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or alive.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But it doesn’t matter because he already knows he’s going to help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you are,” Arthur says, seeming to realize this as well. “You’re not that creative.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He better be real,” Will says, “or I’m telling your mother about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin huffs. He was wrong about Will, he decides. And definitely wrong about Arthur, who’s smiling now, clearly happy that he’s won. After this is over, he needs to find better friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mother,” Merlin says as they’re eating together later that night. He’s not entirely sure how to go about this, so he just blurts, “I think I ought to go to Camelot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother freezes mid-bite, then looks up at him like he’s grown a second head. “You—what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would like to go to Camelot,” Merlin says simply. “For a short time. To get my...bearings.” He makes a complicated hand motion, one that is supposed to signify his magic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She eyes him suspiciously. “What are you up to?” Her face drops, her eyes suddenly worried. “Did something happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no! Nothing happened,” Merlin lies. “I just think I should get out...and stretch my legs, so to speak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother hums. “And you wish to do this...in Camelot?” she asks slowly, suspicion back again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Merlin says awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re doing a great job,” Arthur says sarcastically, suddenly appearing. Merlin is happy to say that he doesn’t startle at all. “Really stellar work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother looks down at her bowl like she’s going to take another bite, but Merlin knows that she’s really just trying to collect her thoughts. Merlin uses this time to give Arthur a look that he hopes says, “Let me handle this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur seems to get the message. He puts up his hands in a faux placating gesture and leans passively against a nearby wall, watching Merlin with mirth in his eyes. Merlin fits in a small scowl before his mother looks back up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives him one last discerning look, clearly weighing the supposed severity of whatever he has planned, against her wishes for him to leave Ealdor, before saying, “I suppose it is a safe enough place to go...to stretch your legs.” She attempts to use the same hand movement that Merlin used earlier to represent his magic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin smiles widely. “Thank you, Mother,” he says, then gathers the dirty dishes from the table, including the one in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I wasn’t done with that,” she complains, but he’s already in the kitchen. He hears her chuckle softly in the other room, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why does she think it’s safer in Camelot than in Ealdor?” Arthur asks, now at his side. “Does she not know of the ban on magic there? And why didn’t you tell her about asking for aid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looks to the archway that leads to the kitchen, making sure his mother hasn’t followed him. “I didn’t even know about Camelot’s magic ban until you told me. And if she knew about that and why I’m going, I’d be tied to that doorpost,” he explains, pointing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, then, “She must care for you a great deal.” His face bears an unreadable expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shrugs, smiling. “She’s my mother. She cares for me, and I her. That’s why I’m doing this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Arthur says thoughtfully. He looks like he might say something else but must decide against it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin doesn’t have time to react before his mother calls, “If you’re going to Camelot, I must write to Gaius, then—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaius</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Arthur asks. Merlin shushes him harshly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s the court physician there and a good friend,” she continues, “so he should be able to provide you with a place to stay, as long as you do the work he asks of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds great!” Merlin shouts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know Gaius?” Arthur asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t. My mother does. I’ve never met him,” Merlin answers. “Why? How do you know him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. He’s treated my family since before I was born,” Arthur says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, maybe he’ll know what happened to you,” Merlin guesses. Arthur nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin briefly wonders if it’s some kind of fate, that his mother of all people would know someone directly associated with Arthur and the royal family, in Camelot of all places. He looks to Arthur and decides that whatever kind of destiny would try to saddle him with Merlin surely must have a great sense of humor. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this one is a bit shorter. I hope you like it! Hoping to post the next chapter around the same time next week :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin’s mother sends him off with a tearful goodbye, a sack full of the measly amenities they could spare, freshly cleaned clothes, a small tattered bedroll, and a sealed envelope. It’s about as hard as he expects to leave—to leave his mother behind, to watch her face get smaller and smaller the further he gets from the house. He can’t help but look back every few steps as he goes, but once he can no longer see her, he remembers why he’s doing this, who he’s doing this for. </p><p>Arthur walks with him as the village becomes but a small speck behind them, engulfed by the hills surrounding them. He flickers in and out of Merlin’s space, offering silent companionship and distracting banter when needed. Merlin thinks it’s oddly intuitive of him to know what Merlin needs and when he needs it. Not that Merlin can make any claims on the kind of man Arthur is anyway. </p><p>As they journey along, Arthur instructs Merlin on how to set traps and how to prepare and cook game with the very few tools Merlin could bring along. He also shows Merlin the safest places to lay his bedroll for the night. Merlin already knew how to do these things to some extent, but Arthur seems to have an expertise in them, one that no doubt comes from years of hunting and travelling, so Merlin does as he says. </p><p>It seems that in no time, Merlin can see the large, bustling presence of Camelot just over the horizon. Arthur startles beside him at the sight of it, letting out a quick breath, his face looking conflicted, as though he’s both excited to be closer to home, but also a bit apprehensive to continue on. </p><p>Merlin can understand why. Neither of them knows what will greet them there, especially Arthur.   Merlin thinks that if he could, he would take Arthur’s hand to try to reassure him, to tell him that everything is going to be okay, even though Merlin isn’t sure of it, himself. So instead, he strides ahead, hand twitching slightly by his side. Arthur follows shortly after him. </p><p>They make their way past the outer walls of the Citadel, passing through dirty, pebbled roads lined with packed-in homes and spots of villagers readying themselves for the day, and into the castle’s main square, which is littered with clusters of Camelot citizens. Each are carrying small, lit candles, which flicker brightly in the partial darkness of the early morning.  </p><p>“What’s going on?” Merlin asks, question aimed at Arthur. </p><p>“They’re holding a vigil for the prince,” a woman next to him answers. She has dark skin, short, brown hair that’s pulled back loosely, and dark brown eyes. </p><p>“A vigil? What happened to him?” Merlin asks, feeling Arthur growing anxious by his side.</p><p>“I’m not sure, exactly,” the woman says, “just that he was attacked by a sorceress a few weeks ago.” Despite the conversation, she says this with a chirpiness to her voice, not one which indicates that she’s happy about the circumstances though; it just seems to be a part of her natural speaking style. </p><p>“Perhaps I <em> am </em> dead, then,” Arthur says, voice strained.</p><p>“They’ve been holding a vigil for him each morning since, hoping that he’ll recover,” the woman continues, sadness coloring her features.</p><p>Merlin looks to Arthur, eyebrows raised. Not dead, then. Injured, but definitely not dead. The corners of Arthur’s mouth turn up.</p><p>Suddenly, as if on cue, the vigil dissipates around them, soon leaving Merlin, Arthur, and the woman still standing there in the mostly empty square. </p><p>“Do you know how it happened?” Merlin asks her, perhaps a bit too frantically. The woman looks at him strangely, so Merlin smooths his features into what he hopes is an easy-going smile. “You see, I’m meant to be helping the court physician, Gaius. I just don’t want to walk into a delicate situation and say something stupid.”</p><p>The woman’s eyebrows go up in recognition, “Oh, Gaius! I know him. I didn’t know he was taking on a new apprentice,” she says.</p><p>“Well, here I am.” Merlin laughs, spreading his arms out wide. The woman laughs along with him. </p><p>“I’m Gwen,” she says, sticking out a hand.</p><p>He shakes it. “Merlin.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” she says with a smile.</p><p>“You too,” Merlin says, also smiling.</p><p>Arthur coughs loudly, looking agitated. Merlin would roll his eyes at him if he could, but he’d rather not burn bridges after only a few minutes in the city.</p><p>“So, about the prince...” Merlin leads.</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Gwen says. “Well, we don’t know exactly what happened, just that he was attacked the night before the celebration. That’s when they found him.” </p><p>“Celebration?” Merlin asks.</p><p>“Yes, a celebration of the twentieth anniversary of the ban on magic in Camelot.” Gwen states this neutrally, as though she has no opinion on it whatsoever.</p><p>Merlin tries to keep his face from falling. And suddenly his being here in Camelot has just become very real, both in the sense that he’s in a land where the persecution of those who have magic is <em> celebrated </em>, as well as in the sense that what Arthur said to Merlin of his last memory seems to have been true. </p><p>And it’s not like he didn’t already believe that Arthur was real—he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. It’s just that, in this moment, Merlin knows that it’s his <em> responsibility </em> to help him, and not in the transactional way he originally agreed to, but in the way you help someone who needs it, the way you help a friend. What kind of person would it make him if he did differently?</p><p>Probably someone just a touch safer…and saner.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll be fine, though,” Gwen says, pulling Merlin from his thoughts. </p><p>Merlin looks at her questioningly. </p><p>“Socially-speaking, I mean. Like, about the prince. You’ll be fine. Not that you aren’t <em> fine </em> already.” Her eyes go wide. “I mean fine...as like, a gentleman. Not fine, like—well, I mean you are—but that’s not something <em> I </em> would personally say...like that, that is…” she trails off, looking nothing short of mortified. “I have to go. My lady is expecting me.” She gestures vaguely to the castle. So, she must be a servant to someone of noble blood.  </p><p>“Okay,” Merlin says, utterly confused, but also charmed in a strange way. Arthur huffs beside him. </p><p>“Okay,” Gwen mimics breathlessly, backing away very quickly. “Bye!”</p><p>“Bye, Gwen,” Merlin calls after her, surprised at how quickly she makes her way across the square. </p><p>“She’s always a bit strange, isn’t she?” Arthur says, mostly to himself, it seems. </p><p>“You know her, then?” Merlin asks loudly, startling a group of guards nearby. </p><p>“She’s the maidservant of the Lady Morgana—my father’s ward.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Merlin asks, covering it in a cough. </p><p>“You always tell me to shut up when I try to help you,” Arthur says. “And you were getting information, so I didn’t see the point.”</p><p>Merlin decides he should really tell Arthur to shut up more. </p><p>“Plus, you were too busy flirting that I doubt anything I would’ve said would’ve gotten through, anyways,” Arthur says, almost...bitterly. But why would his royal highness be bitter about Merlin flirting with a pretty girl?</p><p>Merlin decides to test the waters, quickly coughing, “Jealous,” into his hands. </p><p>Arthur scoffs. “As though I would ever be in competition with someone like<em> you </em>for a girl’s affections.”</p><p>Not exactly what Merlin meant. He tilts his head, one eyebrow going up to signal this. Arthur goes red all over. Huh, Merlin wasn’t sure he could do that. Hey, if anything, it’s more of a sign of him being alive than otherwise. Embarrassment is one of the core tenets of being human. </p><p>“Get over yourself,” Arthur finally says, stalking off towards the castle, presumably in the direction of the physician’s quarters. Merlin follows behind dutifully with a smile on his face.</p><p>At least Arthur didn’t refute it. </p><p>---</p><p>When they reach their destination, it’s empty. Or, well, Merlin assumes it is, at first. That is, until an elderly man makes his way out of the room in the far back. He walks slowly, cautiously, wary of every movement and using a thin, wobbly cane to aid his steps. He must be injured. </p><p>“What happened to you?” Arthur asks aloud, seeming to have forgotten that the man can’t hear him. From the look on his face, Merlin can tell that he cares a great deal for him. </p><p>“Can I help you?” the man asks, suddenly noticing Merlin. </p><p>“Ah, yes,” Merlin says, startled. “Are you Gaius, the court physician?”</p><p>“I am, indeed,” Gaius confirms, stepping further into the room. “And who might you be?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m Merlin,” he says, then swings his bag around to fish for his envelope. Once he finds it, he meets Gaius across the room to hand it to him. Gaius pockets it for later, explaining that he doesn’t have his glasses on him at the moment.</p><p>“Hunith’s son?” Gaius asks. “I was expecting you a few weeks ago.”</p><p>“You were expecting me?” Merlin asks. </p><p>“Yes, your mother sent a letter asking me to take you on as an apprentice about two months ago,” Gaius says.</p><p>Figures, that was around the time Will found out about his magic. It makes sense that she would want to secure a place for Merlin to stay, especially if he had to leave in a hurry.</p><p>“I hadn’t heard anything further, so I was going to send a letter back, but then I had my fall, and well, I’m remiss to say that it fell to the wayside,” Gaius continues. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Merlin asks, knowing that Arthur would want to know. Merlin does too. </p><p>“I’m alright, considering,” Gaius says, then almost trips over a pile of books on the floor. Without thinking, Merlin uses his magic to push them aside.</p><p>It’s only a small movement, but Gaius seems to catch it, nonetheless. “What did you just do?” he asks, but he lets Merlin help him to a nearby chair, so Merlin doesn’t exactly fear for his life.</p><p>“Merlin, you are an absolutely useless idiot,” Arthur says. Merlin scowls at him.</p><p>“Tell me! What did you just <em> do?” </em> Gaius asks, fiercely this time.</p><p>Sputtering a bit, Merlin explains that he didn’t <em> do </em> anything. Gaius then throws a flurry of questions at him, asking where he learned magic, who taught him, did he start learning when he was young? Merlin explains, just like he did with Arthur, that he didn’t <em> learn </em> magic. He was born with it.</p><p>“That’s impossible,” Gaius says. “Magic like that often requires spells, incantations. And even with knowledge of them, it can take years to master.” He sounds like he’s speaking from experience. Arthur’s eyebrows go up, seeming to have realized this as well.</p><p>“I can’t explain it any more than you can,” Merlin says. “It’s just the way I am.”</p><p>“Indeed.” Gaius eyes him strangely, as does Arthur for that matter. “You seem to be quite the oddity, my boy.”</p><p>Merlin can just <em> feel </em> Arthur’s comment surfacing, but surprisingly, instead, he asks, “Will you tell him about me?” </p><p>Merlin shakes his head almost imperceptibly. While Gaius seems to be trustworthy, based on the way Arthur and Merlin’s mother regard him, Merlin doesn’t want to push it, not yet. They’ve only just met and while Gaius seems to be accepting of his magic, it doesn’t mean that he’ll help him or even believe him.</p><p>“And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you shouldn’t disclose your…gifts with anyone else,” Gaius adds.</p><p>“Of course not,” Merlin confirms.</p><p>“Good,” Gaius says, satisfied. “Well, now that you’re here, I could definitely use your help.”</p><p>Merlin nods. Gaius probably could’ve used his help a few weeks ago back when Merlin was originally promised. It almost makes Merlin wish he arrived earlier. </p><p>In scanning the room surrounding them, Merlin finds it to be particularly unkempt, items strewn haphazardly on the floor and across the small tables crookedly scattered about the area. It makes sense—Gaius looks to be in a lot of pain, so he probably doesn’t have time to do much cleaning, not that he strikes Merlin as someone who is particularly neat, otherwise.  </p><p>“Whatever you need,” Merlin says dutifully, finding that he genuinely wants to help.</p><p>---</p><p>Merlin thinks that maybe he was a bit too eager in his efforts to do everything Gaius asked of him because after hours of gathering herbs, four trips hefting heavy medical supplies back from various market vendors, as well as delivering potions and tonics throughout the castle and Camelot’s upper quarter, he finds himself slumped into one of Gaius’ rickety chairs, hardly able to stand due to his exhaustion.</p><p>“Merlin,” Gaius greets. “Glad to see you’re back. I need you to make one more delivery for me.”</p><p>Merlin just groans, too tired to be polite anymore. “Can’t it be delivered tomorrow?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not. The draught needs to be delivered to the Lady Morgana’s chambers tonight,” Gaius says with a touch of urgency, handing Merlin a small bottle.</p><p>Merlin looks down at the potion dumbly. That’s the king’s ward, the woman Arthur said Gwen worked for. “Is she okay?” Merlin asks.</p><p>Gaius looks at him like it isn’t his business, which it isn’t, but he answers anyway. “The poor child suffers from nightmares. The draught is to help ease her sleep. So, I recommend getting it to her before nightfall.”</p><p>Merlin lifts himself from the chair dramatically and does as he’s told. It’s as he makes his way towards Morgana’s chambers that Arthur appears next to him again.</p><p>“Where have you been?” Merlin asks in a harsh whisper. He didn’t miss Arthur, he <em> didn’t </em>.</p><p>“I can’t exactly control this, Merlin,” Arthur says, gesturing to himself.</p><p>“Well, it seems that you like to disappear when it’s awfully convenient for you.”</p><p>“I can’t help it that the powers that be don’t want to make me sit through six hours of errands running with you,” Arthur says. “What would I even have to contribute to that, anyways?”</p><p>“We could’ve worked out our game plan,” Merlin says, catching an odd look from a nearby serving boy. Merlin smiles to cover himself, but doesn’t care enough not to say, “I’m still here for a reason, you might remember. And it’s not draught delivery.”</p><p>“You agreed to help Gaius. I didn’t tell you to do that,” Arthur argues.</p><p>“What else would you have me do? The man looks like he’s fit to tip over any minute,” Merlin argues back, regrettably at full volume this time.</p><p>“Who’s fit to tip over any minute?” a voice asks from behind him.</p><p>“Gwen,” Merlin greets with a smile. She looks at him curiously. “Oh, just someone I saw outside of the local tavern.” She still looks at him like he’s something strange, so he adds, “Sorry, sometimes I talk to myself. I’m often my best company.”</p><p>Arthur scoffs beside him.</p><p>“It’s okay. I do it, too,” Gwen says, accepting the lie. She looks to the bottle in Merlin’s hand. “I take it that’s for my Lady.”</p><p>Merlin nods, handing it to her when she reaches for it. “I heard she has nightmares.”</p><p>“Yes,” Gwen says. “They’ve been getting a lot worse lately, ever since…” she trails off, catching herself before she gives away too much.</p><p>“Ever since…what?” Merlin pushes. Gwen looks hesitant to say, so he takes a shot in the dark. “It must have to do with the prince being injured. I heard that Morgana is the king’s ward, so she must have known him well.”</p><p>“We practically grew up together,” Arthur says, contemplatively. “Where are you going with this, Merlin?”</p><p>“She did,” Gwen confirms. “So, I could see why what happened to him is bothering her.” She looks a little lost to her thoughts for a moment, but then jolts slightly, coming back to the present. “He’ll be better soon, though.”</p><p>“You’ve seen him?” Merlin asks, trying not to sound too excited. Gwen shakes her head. “Then how do you know?”</p><p>“I don’t, really. I just have to believe it,” Gwen says solemnly.</p><p>“For Camelot’s sake,” Merlin guesses.</p><p>“Yes, for that,” Gwen says, nodding. “But for Morgana’s sake, as well.”</p><p>Merlin isn’t quite sure what to say, so he just nods and hands her the draught, which she accepts passively. “Well, I hope this helps, then.”</p><p>“Me too,” Gwen says. “Thank you, Merlin.” She shoots him an appreciative smile, then heads inside.</p><p>“I didn’t know she cared for Morgana so much,” Arthur says once she’s gone. “Or that Morgana would care enough to be saddened by my absence.”</p><p>Sometimes, Merlin thinks, for all of Arthur’s brash arrogance, he doesn’t have a lot of self-worth. Not as a human being, really. Merlin noticed a long time ago that Arthur is quick to measure himself by his title as a prince, or his fighting prowess, or his knowledge of hunting and gathering, and little else. Merlin didn’t even know how close he and Morgana were until now.</p><p>“I think that it may be more than that,” Merlin says, deciding not to ask him about it. “I think that Morgana may have seen something when you were attacked. And Gwen knows about it.”</p><p>“What makes you think that?” Arthur asks.</p><p>“I don’t know…just the way Gwen spoke about it, like she was speaking <em> around </em> it,” Merlin says. “Why not just come out and say that Morgana’s upset you’re injured?”</p><p>Arthur pauses, nodding. He then snaps his fingers and strides briskly towards Morgana’s chambers, as though he’s going to burst in.</p><p>Merlin makes to grab for him, but his hand phases through Arthur’s shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” Merlin asks.</p><p>Arthur turns to look back at him. “I’m going to spy on Morgana, of course,” he says, then promptly bumps into the door. He stands still for a moment, staring down the dark mahogany as though it’s personally offended him. He then shakes his head, tries again, and bounces back looking even more confused.</p><p>He tries one more time for good measure. No luck.</p><p>“Oh, well, that’s just fantastic!” Arthur throws his arms up. His hand knocks against the door roughly and Merlin has to stifle a laugh in a cough.</p><p>“It looks like you actually <em> are </em> stuck with me, then,” Merlin says. “I can’t believe you never tried leaving the room without me before.”</p><p>“What can I say, Merlin? I must’ve been too entranced by your lovely peasant smell to leave,” Arthur says, halfheartedly, the remainder of his focus settled on the door in front of him, as if it’s a puzzle he can solve. </p><p>“You can smell me?” Merlin asks, checking himself over with a small whiff. “How’s that even possible?”</p><p>Arthur turns back to look at him, face awash with utter disgust. Laying out a deep, frustrated sigh, he must decide that Merlin isn’t worth the time nor effort, so he turns a scrutinizing look back towards the door. “I didn’t get the chance to try because I wasn’t able to stick around for this long before,” he says thoughtfully.</p><p>Now, that’s something to think about. Back in Ealdor, Arthur would only seem to spend a few minutes with Merlin during each given visit, often only enough time to share a brief conversation before disappearing. But ever since they started their journey to Camelot, Arthur has stayed with him for longer and longer. Perhaps, the closer they got to Camelot, the longer he was allowed to stay.</p><p>Merlin isn’t quite sure what to make of that. It could be a good sign; a sign that as they’ve gotten closer to Arthur’s body, that they’ve gotten closer to the truth, maybe even closer to reuniting him with it. Or maybe it means that Arthur’s getting further and further away from reality, that his grasp on the mortal plane is starting to slip, and maybe it’s too late for him. Merlin can neither describe nor justify the sadness that idea leaves him with.</p><p>If Arthur has the same realization, he doesn’t say anything. Merlin decides not to bring it up, either way, and since they’re done here, he turns to start walking in the other direction.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asks. “You obviously need to go in there.”</p><p>“Are you crazy?” Merlin whispers, stopping and turning to face Arthur.</p><p>“We need to find out what she knows!”</p><p>“And you think that me bursting into the chambers of a noblewoman is going to help us do that?” Merlin asks. He resumes walking and Arthur follows him, probably because he has no other choice, Merlin now realizes. “Do you always go into things this thick-headed?”</p><p>“Do you always shrivel in the face of a challenge?” Arthur snaps. “Or are you just a coward?”</p><p>“I’m not a coward,” Merlin snaps back.</p><p>“Then why are you acting like one?” Arthur yells.</p><p>At this point, they’re far enough from Morgana’s chambers that Merlin can stop whispering. “You might want to remember that <em> I’m </em> the one taking all the risks here. You get to shout and make funny comments and bump into things all you want, and I’m sure you were able to do that beforehand just fine, but I don’t have that luxury. Not with who I am and what I’m trying to do for my village, for my <em> mother </em>.”</p><p>Merlin storms off, not caring about the sad look on Arthur’s face or whether or not he’s following behind because <em> screw </em> him. He has <em> no idea </em> what it takes for Merlin to be here or what he left behind.</p><p>By the time Merlin reaches the physician’s quarters, Arthur is gone, so Merlin figures that he disappeared on the way back. Merlin is too tired to care and he’s still angry, so he finally lets his exhaustion take him over and falls into a quick, petty sleep.</p><p>That night, he dreams of a rumbling voice, deep like a growl, calling his name over and over again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! You can find me at @arthurandhisswordbros on tumblr!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone for the kudos and the really nice comments! They've really made my day!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Merlin awakes to Arthur watching him.</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, Merlin,” Arthur says. “It would appear that I’m still able to show up even while you’re asleep. It wouldn’t be so terrible if I could actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>go anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>do anything, </span>
  </em>
  <span>though. Or if you weren’t the world’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>heaviest sleeper</span>
  </em>
  <span> and wouldn’t wake up for anything short of an animal stampede running through your room. But no, instead, I was stuck here with your snoring for half the night, the sound of which probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> rival that of an animal stampede. So, thanks for that. It makes me really glad to be magically stuck to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, for an apology, it’s pretty weak,” Merlin says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You should try something a little more heartfelt, next time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t an apology,” Arthur defends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Merlin says sitting up straight, spreading his arms wide. “Let’s hear it, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your apology.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not apologizing to you!” Arthur exclaims.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin flops back onto the bed, closing his eyes. “Then you can watch me sleep for a few more hours. And I’ll make sure to snore extra loudly this time, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> yourself snore louder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin lifts a hand in the air, waggling his fingers. “I’ll just use my magic to do it, then.” He can’t, of course, but Arthur doesn’t know that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur lets out an exasperated sigh and when Merlin opens an eye to look at him, he looks equal parts uncomfortable and annoyed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Arthur huffs after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. Merlin sits up in excitement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur takes a few, dragging steps towards him, looking like this is the absolute last situation he would ever want to be in, in the last place and with the last person, too. He lifts his hand just above Merlin’s head, makes a fist, and twists it back and forth in a strange turning motion. After a moment of this, he retracts his hand, then takes a few steps back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin is dumbfounded. “What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know…” Arthur starts, somehow looking even more uncomfortable than before, “an apology.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to need to work on that,” Merlin says, standing up. “Like, a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be rude. That...wasn’t easy for me,” Arthur says, slightly bashful. If bashful is a thing Arthur could be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin lazily makes his way over to Arthur. He then lifts his hand, letting it hover near where Arthur’s shoulder would be, and flexes his fingers in a clasping motion. Looking him dead in the eye, he says, “Rudeness begets rudeness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, aren’t you clever,” Arthur says, eyes squinting, but he’s smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And suddenly, they’re fine. Merlin doesn’t know how it happened, whether it’s because he slept off his anger, or because the idea of Arthur being confined to watching Merlin drool for hours on end seems like punishment enough, or maybe because Arthur’s weird apology actually worked, but they’re okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur clears his throat, looking away quickly. It’s then that Merlin realizes that he’s been staring into Arthur’s eyes for far too long, smiling like a lunatic. Merlin feels his grin drop, but he can’t help but linger for another second or two, mostly to watch Arthur squirm, but...also not.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin lowers his hand back down to his side and Arthur quickly walks to the other side of the room, almost as though Merlin was actually, physically keeping him in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur starts, “So, now that that’s settled, what’s our plan going—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s interrupted by a knock at the door. “Merlin!” Gaius calls. “The king has called a meeting this morning and I need your assistance in getting there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin feels himself still, eyes widening. The king?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Merlin calls, quickly donning his neckerchief. He turns to Arthur to answer his question, only to see that he’s disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An exceedingly small part of Merlin is glad because, well…he doesn’t really have a plan quite yet. And admitting that to Arthur, especially after what happened last night, would no doubt result in a lot of self-righteous indignation on the prince’s part. Merlin already has enough to deal with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of him, though, is completely freaking out because not only does he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not have a plan,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he’s essentially on his own now. To see the king of Camelot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting Gaius to the meeting is no small feat, nor is it a quick one. Although Gaius is already weeks into his healing, he’s still quite injured. Luckily, he seems to have already anticipated this because they arrive early. The hall is relatively cleared out, save for a few servants preparing the area—wiping the floors, pulling back the curtains, and setting the large council table centered in front of the throne. Despite this, a few council members also arrive early and each of them greet Gaius with the familiarity of old friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin guides Gaius to the chair of his choosing, thankful that the old man isn’t going to be made to stand throughout the session. Of course, Merlin wouldn’t have had a problem supporting him throughout it if that were the case. Maybe then it would give him an idea of what he’s supposed to be doing here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin is eyeing the large room, wondering if he could blend in with the servants still rushing about preparing the place, when he spots Gwen over in the corner. She’s dusting the smaller, yet still elegantly crafted chair seated at the throne’s left hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gwen!” Merlin calls. Her head shoots up, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but as soon as she spots him approaching her, her face lights up. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m just readying my Lady’s place before the meeting,” Gwen says. Her eyes flick over to Gaius and then back to Merlin. “I see you’re here to assist Gaius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I go where he needs me to, even if it’s halfway across the kingdom to pick yarrow or to make deliveries to some blind-as-a-bat noble who chugs the phial before I can tell him it needs to be taken in increments,” Merlin says, huffing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwen laughs, seeming to find his exasperation amusing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of,” Merlin says, lowering his voice, “how did the draught work out for Morgana? Did it take care of her nightmares?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because while Merlin doesn’t necessarily have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>concrete</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan, he does remember what he gleaned from Gwen last night. And because he has next to no chance of having a conversation with Morgana, herself, Gwen is his next best chance at getting information about what happened to Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwen’s face forms into a frown, which is an answer enough for Merlin. Still, she shakes her head. “Not entirely.” She looks up to Merlin, who must also be frowning because she gives him a sort of placating smile. “But from what she tells me, they weren’t as bad as the night before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Merlin offers. “Maybe she won’t be as haunted by the prince’s injury, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…maybe,” Gwen says absently. Her eyes soften around the edges just slightly and her smile starts to fade into something tinged with this sort of…longing sadness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Merlin has seen it before. It’s the kind of smile his mother used to wear when Merlin would get into trouble with Will, or that one time he got caught stealing, or more recently, when he was being stupid and obvious about using his magic. It says, “I love you; I’m worried about you.” And seeing it in Gwen’s smile makes Merlin’s heart clench with bittersweet nostalgia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He puts a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll get through it. She has you, after all,” he says sincerely. Morgana would be lucky to have someone like Gwen to care about her. Anyone would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwen’s sad smile fades in place of a brighter one. “Thanks, Merlin. I appreciate that,” she says, and he nods in return. A few beats later and they both realize Merlin’s hand is still on her shoulder. Her eyes widen and she goes red. He re-collects his hand awkwardly, then coughs to hide his mutual embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyways,” Merlin starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Gwen interrupts and Merlin can’t help but let out a burst of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because for all of Arthur’s complaining, Merlin isn’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>interested</span>
  </em>
  <span> in Gwen, not like that, at least. The thing is…he doesn’t anticipate being here for long, but in the time that he is, he doesn’t think having Gwen as a friend would be such a bad thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then that Merlin remembers why he set out to talk to Gwen in the first place, but after the conversation they just had, pushing any further with questions just…doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because before Merlin can even think to say anything, Gwen’s attention is drawn across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a quick goodbye to Merlin, she takes off, doing her best to lightly race across the hall without disrupting the cluster of councilmen taking their seats at the table nearby. By the hall’s entrance stands a noblewoman with pale skin and dark hair that falls down to her expensive, gold-embroidered silk dress in long, wavy tresses. She stands tall and regal, but as soon as Gwen approaches her, she looks ready to collapse in relief, as does Gwen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And even with Gwen’s babbling and stammering and blushing around him, Merlin suddenly gets the impression that, like him, she means nothing by it; that she already has her eye on this woman, who is no doubt the, as of yet, enigmatic Lady Morgana.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gwen leads Morgana in Merlin’s direction to the chair she was making up before. Merlin decides it’s best if he’s not here when they arrive, and in knowing better than to try to take a seat at the table next to Gaius, he lets himself fade into the background, leaning against one of the heavy pillars off to the side of the main meeting area.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon enough, the king arrives and the hall goes quiet. He stalks forward towards his throne in thick, heavy steps, both taking his time and seemingly not wasting any. Council members and servants stand and bow respectively as he passes, but in lieu of acknowledging them, he treads on, eyes locked ahead, yet they flicker once or twice to the empty chair seated at his throne’s right hand. Once he’s seated, though, he doesn’t look to the chair again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The meeting then goes on as Merlin suspects they all do, save for the special note the king makes of Gaius’ return, to which Gaius is greeted with even more welcomes than when he arrived. After that, it’s mostly talks of taxes and grain reserves and the general business of running a kingdom. Merlin mostly tunes it out to be honest, and halfway through, figures he didn’t really have anything to worry about. That is, until the end, when the subject of fortifying defenses against magical attacks within the kingdom is brought up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a certain desperate, cutting edge to these talks, in a way that reveals the very raw and open wound that the attack against Arthur left behind, in both a political and personal sense. Merlin has to bite his tongue so hard he nearly bleeds when a council member recommends an increase in public executions as a possible deterrent for magic-based attacks. The notion seems to be widely agreed upon, emphatically so on the king’s part. And save for a few darting eyes and uncomfortable looks coming from fellow council members and a few servants, no one dares to speak up, not even Gaius, whose face remains blank during this, almost carefully so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I almost forgot what it was like,” Arthur says, suddenly appearing. Although, Merlin gets the feeling that the prince has been standing there for a while. Sparing a look towards Arthur out of his side eye, Merlin waits for him to finish the sentence. He waits for him to say…he doesn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Arthur doesn’t finish it and perhaps it’s to be expected. It’s difficult to convince someone of something when they’ve been told the opposite all their lives, especially when they’re thrown back into the original environment that enabled such thoughts. Even if they know better, and Merlin thinks Arthur does now, it can be so easy to fall back into what you were taught. And Merlin knows that he’s not really in danger, not from Arthur anyways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Merlin is starting to learn who his true enemy is. He spares another look up to the king. He looks tired and worn on his throne, like he’s settled into his own grief and hatred and, little by little, it’s causing him to decompose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin wonders if Arthur can see it too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin thinks about trying to strike up another conversation with Gwen after the meeting has ended, but she looks to be too engrossed in attending Morgana, so he decides to leave her to it and focuses himself with attending Gaius, instead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Off to the side, he hears a small commotion, but when he finally gets a chance to tilt his head up to look, the matter seems to already have been settled—a servant girl must have dropped a vase in front of the Lady Morgana, who placates her as she worries after the pieces scattered across the ground—so Merlin decides to look away in an attempt to not make more of a show of it than it has to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Gaius finishes the last of his goodbyes, he and Merlin start their long journey back to the physician’s quarters, Arthur following behind in silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it always like that?” Merlin asks. The question is aimed toward Gaius, but Merlin notices Arthur perk up in his peripheral, almost as though he’s forgotten that no one else can see him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mostly, yes,” Gaius says, “but I do admit it was a bit more…intense this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because of the prince’s injury…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius doesn’t look surprised that Merlin knows this. “So, you’ve heard about that, then. I suppose it would be odd if you didn’t at this point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the empty throne gave it away, mostly, as did the fact that the entire castle seems to be walking on eggshells around the king. Oh, and it didn’t help that I arrived during one of the morning vigils. Aside from that, Gwen filled in the rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius chuckles, but doesn’t offer anything further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice to see that the people care so much for him. They truly seem deeply saddened by his absence,” Merlin says, leaving the sentence hanging off intentionally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius only nods, then prompts Merlin to turn left at the end of the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin tries again. “And I suppose his injuries must be serious if he’s still out of commission a few weeks later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still nothing from the old man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But they must not be too serious because he’s still alive, from what I’ve heard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Gaius eyes Merlin suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin decides to take a more direct approach this time. “I heard that he was attacked by a sorceress. Is that true?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all of his strange silence, Arthur can’t seem to help letting out a scoff at Merlin’s impropriety.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius stops in his place, causing Merlin to do the same. His eyes scan Merlin’s face, as though he’s assessing motives. Then, he raises a singular, judgmental eyebrow, and lets out a put-upon sigh. “Merlin, I think that it’s best for you not to step into matters that do not concern you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s gaze reflexively flicks to Arthur and he has to stifle a laugh. Really, as though he has a choice anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius continues. “And it’s probably best, given your…special talents, that you keep your curiosity to yourself around here, even with Gwen.” He lowers his voice. “You wouldn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nods in understanding, but he already knows the risks. He looks to Arthur again. Somewhere along the way, he decided they were worth taking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them remain silent for the rest of the journey, conversation finished and forgotten. Once they arrive at the physician’s quarters, Gaius has a new list of chores for Merlin to do, although this one is much shorter than the last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin does as he’s instructed without much complaint and Arthur continues to follow him around. Again, not that he has a choice in the matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Merlin finds himself traversing the fields surrounding the outer wall collecting herbs, Arthur gives him advice much like he did on their journey to Camelot. Only, this time, he doesn’t make fun of Merlin when he stumbles over the occasional branch or stone, nor does he berate Merlin when he drops a bundle of rosemary due to poor binding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin thinks they’re both a little shaken after this morning’s meeting, especially Arthur. Today was the first time he had seen his father—his </span>
  <em>
    <span>family</span>
  </em>
  <span>—in weeks. And all he could do was watch from the outside, watch a world that exists without him, unable to interact with it or even tell his loved ones that he’s alright. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Merlin can’t tell them. At best, he’d be banished for making false claims about the injured prince. At worst, he’d be executed for sorcery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur disappears again sometime in the early afternoon and Merlin is finally finished with the list, so after he drops off the necessary supplies for Gaius, he decides to head back out to the woods, make a small camp, and practice his long-forgotten whittling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in Ealdor, when Merlin dreamed of a grander, more interesting life, whittling used to be an activity which agitated him to some degree. The fact that even with all his chores, he still had the time to sit down and mindlessly carve for hours on end almost seemed like a reminder of how static and boring and </span>
  <em>
    <span>ordinary</span>
  </em>
  <span> it all was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But here in Camelot, where life is dynamic and complex and ever-changing, Merlin finds himself taking a strange sort of joy in the mindlessness of the activity. It feels like a much-needed break, a time where he doesn’t have to think about the dangers of being here or how much he misses his mother and Will, or even his magic. He can just lose himself to repetitive carving and suddenly, time and space cease to exist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you do that?” Arthur asks a few hours later. It’s late into the evening now, and after a number of abandoned attempts, Merlin is working on a new, steadier cane for Gaius made out of a large, thick branch he found in the woods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do what?” Merlin asks, still engrossed in getting the arch of the handle just right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Use your hands for that,” Arthur says. “Why don’t you just use your magic to shape it? Why expend the extra effort? We’re far enough into the woods where no one would see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin pauses, deciding how to put it. “You’re a fighter right?” he finally asks. “You must be, if you’re a prince.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been trained to kill since birth,” Arthur says, as though it’s the most normal thing to say in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin chuckles to himself. “Of course you were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I resent that response.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you do,” Merlin says. Before Arthur can snipe back, he trudges on, “Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, you must know how to fight, both with and without a weapon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Naturally, I am also trained in hand-to-hand combat,” Arthur says. “What’s your point?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, sometimes I just want to be good at things </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> my magic,” Merlin says, “just like you wanted to learn to fight without a sword.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you said magic was a part of you,” Arthur says. “Why would you ever want to part with it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t—and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a part of me. But that’s what it is—at part. It’s like an extension of myself, like…a limb, or a weapon—something useful to be wielded when I need it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For more than carving kindling, I suppose,” Arthur says with a rye kind of smile, one that seems unlike him, but somehow suits him as well as most things do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin laughs. “For however I see fit, just like you can use your weapons however you see fit—for honor or destruction, or even to carve wood if you’re bored. It’s what you do with it and what you don’t do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur is silent yet again after that, perhaps deciding that Merlin isn’t worth talking to, with his strange allegories and poor whittling practices.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite this, Merlin is actually quite proud of the work he’s gotten done this afternoon. The cane doesn’t turn out as sturdy as he hopes, nor is the craftsmanship anything special or particularly good, but it’s much better than what Gaius is already using. And a part of Merlin, the part that’s still very young, just hopes he likes it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mother loved whittling,” Arthur says, drawing Merlin’s attention to him once again. It looks like it’s painful for him to say, only not in the embarrassed way he looked when Merlin made him apologize earlier. “Or, so I’m told,” he adds on, turning away from Merlin’s gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin pauses for a few minutes. “I know nothing of my father,” he says. “But sometimes...I like to think that there’s something about me that is like him—maybe it’s something like whittling...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or magic,” Arthur says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin feels himself smile a little. “Yeah,” he says, then decides to conjure up something painful, himself, something true. “It’s how I feel close to him, even though I’ll never know him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pauses briefly, then nods, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to, really, and Merlin isn’t sure he wants him to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few moments later, Merlin packs up his things, making sure to safely secure his beloved creation to his waist and thigh with leftover rope and sets off. The sun has completely set already, so Merlin has to find his way back to the castle in mostly darkness, only the full moon and the few torches lit outside the rows of villager homes enough to lead him on the correct path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the cool night breeze softly swirls around him, Merlin almost swears he can hear someone whispering to him. “Did you say something?” he asks Arthur, who shakes his head. They’re inside the castle walls now and Arthur’s face is lit by one of the fire pits by the main entrance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. the whispering voice insists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s head whips around to find its source, only to no avail. “Did you hear that?” he asks Arthur, stopping in his tracks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear what?” Arthur asks. “Seriously, Merlin, if you’re starting to lose it—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Merlin says. “I just thought I heard…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He continues to walk ahead. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t hear anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur eyes him suspiciously. “No, I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin must just be tired, then—that’s it. He’s had a long day and he’s probably just sleep deprived and going a little crazy from it. Soon enough, the whispering stops, though, and Merlin readily commits himself to forgetting he ever heard anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until he starts hearing loud arguing coming from the physician’s quarters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns to Arthur. “You heard that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nods to him, then breaks into a defensive stance, placing himself between Merlin and the cracked door. He presses up against the wall adjacent to the opening, seeming to forget, once again, that only Merlin can see him. Instead of arguing this point, though, Merlin decides to follow his lead and flattens himself against the wall next to him, carefully placing his bundle of herbs on the floor next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, Gaius,” a woman’s voice argues loudly. “Just like I saw the sorceress. How do you explain that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius must be saying something that Merlin can’t quite make out because the woman goes quiet for a moment, then she rebounds, shouting even louder this time, “No—no it’s not just the nightmares! It </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t be</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin and Arthur look to each other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Morgana</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Well, Merlin guesses that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> spying on her, after all. He moves in a little closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think there might be something…</span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> with me,” she says, voice sounding raw and wrecked, almost like her words are being ripped out of her. “I don’t know what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong with you,” Gaius insists. “What you witnessed…it’s not something that bears lightly on the soul, nor on the heart. And sometimes, when people feel that much pressure—that much grief, the pain can manifest itself in various, unorthodox ways. Our minds try to form new pathways and make connections that aren’t there just in an effort to make sense of it all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana remains silent through this, seeming to consider his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, I’ve brewed a new draught for you,” Gaius says, presumably handing her the object in question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gaius, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This one is a bit stronger, but it should give you a peaceful night’s sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Morgana says, quiet as a mouse and sniffling. After a few minutes, she says, “You’re right—perhaps the stress is starting to get to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It happens to the best of us,” Gaius says. “You just need to rest, my dear child. Everything else will pass with time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This…stays between us. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you…you’ve never been anything but kind to me. I’m sorry for shouting at you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin can hear the smile in Gaius’ voice. “Let’s chalk that up to the stress, too, why don’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgana laughs softly, as does Gaius. A moment later, he leads her out. Merlin retreats into the darkness of a nearby alcove to avoid being seen, but Arthur stays in place, watching as the two say their goodbyes and Morgana finally departs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess you were right, Merlin,” Arthur says, once Gaius heads back in. “She </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> see something. And it must’ve been terrible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin would act smug about the statement—he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after all—if Arthur doesn’t look so devastated when he says it. Instead, Merlin stays in the dark alcove, trying to collect his thoughts. What did Morgana mean when she said that she saw “him?” And if she saw the sorceress, then that means that she saw what happened to Arthur. Maybe then, if she saw some sort of spell, they can figure out how to reverse it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin goes to step out of the shadows, but Arthur holds out a hand to stop him. “Hold on,” he says, watching through the still-open doorway. Seconds later, he stands back to make room for Gaius, who returns to the narrow hallway carrying a small satchel, leaning heavily on his cane. He leaves, shuffling down the remainder of the hallway. Once Merlin hears him slowly clear the surrounding set of steps, he steps out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to follow him,” Arthur says, keeping his eye on Gaius. “Quickly, before he gets away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This again?” Merlin asks, mostly because he’s tired and quite done with the espionage for today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t like the last time,” Arthur defends. "I think he’s going to wherever my body is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” It sounds like a ridiculous conclusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think about it, why would Gaius go somewhere this late with his medicine bag? If he needed to make a delivery, he would ask you. If he needed to treat someone, he would ask you to assist him like he did this morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless it’s someone who doesn’t want anyone to know they’re being treated,” Merlin argues, but in saying so, he seems to have just made Arthur’s point. Arthur clearly recognizes this, so he pushes forward. He suddenly stops short, the forces of the magical bond acting against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Merlin, he’s getting away. Just…</span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!” Arthur says, body straining in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And damn it, Merlin does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This better not end up with me dead,” Merlin says, pointing to Arthur and walking towards him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur immediately shoots forward, getting as far as he can before the bond stops him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember, if I die, you probably do too,” Merlin adds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, that or I’m stuck with your corpse.” Or they both go on to haunt a third person. “Now, let’s go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that’s how they follow Gaius, with Arthur walking as far ahead as he can to watch him and Merlin trailing slowly behind, sneaking behind statues and vases, or crowding into alcoves and nooks in the wall to avoid being seen. He feels stupid doing it, but Arthur actually looks like he knows what he’s doing, so Merlin resolves to just go along with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Arthur stops in his place looking from the edge of the hallway. Following a distance behind him, Merlin asks, “What? Did you see something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s turning into one of the hallways that lead to my chambers. My body is probably being kept there.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Hold on.” Merlin trudges over to where Arthur is standing. “Are you telling me that this </span><em><span>whole</span></em> <em><span>time</span></em><span>, we could’ve just gone to your room?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not, Merlin, don’t be an idiot,” Arthur says. “If my body is in my room, that means that it’s heavily guarded. There’s no way you could’ve gotten past them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well, that inspires a lot of confidence—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur suddenly jolts in place, then moves forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Merlin whispers harshly. He remains in his spot in the middle of the hallway, figuring that because of the bond, Arthur won’t be able to continue on. Only, a few moments later, when Arthur is just a few paces away, Merlin feels himself jolt and begins to move forward, too, only without his permission. He flails a little bit, trying to get his legs to stop, but as Arthur continues to stalk along towards his chambers, so does Merlin. Then, as Arthur turns the corner to his chambers, he leads Merlin directly into the view of the guards standing outside of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, what are you doing here?” one of them barks. He’s a rather tall man with medium-length dirty blonde hair and a short, messy beard. The guard next to him is average-sized and wearing a helmet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin pauses, looking to Arthur for help, but the prince is still walking towards the chambers, almost like he’s in a daze, still dragging Merlin along with him. As he approaches the door, instead of bouncing off of it like last time, he passes through, leaving Merlin alone with the guards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gaius came by this way, right?” Merlin says, thinking on his feet and approaching the guards with as much confidence he can muster. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leon,” the guard—Leon says, leering at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, nice to meet you, Leon.” Merlin sticks out a hand to shake. Leon looks at it derisively, so Merlin drops it back down to his side awkwardly. Clearing his throat, he says, “I’m Merlin, Gaius’ new apprentice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leon turns to the other guard, murmuring, “Did you hear of Gaius taking on an apprentice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really,” the guard replies just as quietly. “Although, it does make sense, with his injuries and all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then that Merlin is supremely thankful for his own forgetfulness, as well as his luck, because, otherwise, he wouldn’t have held onto the cane all of this time. “That’s partially why I’m here,” he cuts in, pulling it from its bindings and holding it up. “Gaius sent me out to do a number of errands today, including getting this cane. I tried to get back as quickly as I could because—well, you’ve seen the one he’s using, it’s all wobbly and terrible and it looks like it’ll slip out from under him at any minute—but I had just missed him.” He’s hoping to go for a bit bumbling and harmless. “So, he told me that if he wasn’t there when I got back, I should bring it here, so I decided to…do that…” he trails off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leon lets out a small, frustrated sigh, like he figured the only interaction he would be having at this post would be in the form of some sort of epic fight and Merlin rattling off about canes is pretty much the antithesis of that. “One moment,” he says, then opens the door to Arthur’s chambers, sticks his head in, and says something Merlin can’t quite make out. Looking in, Merlin just catches a flash of Arthur, who’s standing in place and staring off absently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leon nods his head a few times, then steps into the room, holding the door open for Merlin, who passes through with little hesitation. The first thing he notices are the scorch marks—deep black stains which spread from the bed outwards, encapsulating nearby furniture and even touching upon the large curtains by the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second thing he notices is Arthur, but not the one still standing absently in the middle of the room. No, what Merlin sees is Arthur’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>body.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s lying in the center of the bed; eyes closed and face unresponsive. It’s breathing slowly, yet deeply, almost as though he’s merely sleeping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin instinctively steps forward to...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, a spark of energy rushes through him, prickling his skin and making his hairs stand on end. Almost instantly the rush dissipates, then returns once again, like a crashing wave hanging by the shore, waiting for the next to take its place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It lures him in and he feels himself take an involuntary step forward. As he moves, so does Arthur, almost as though he were waiting for Merlin’s permission to do so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Gaius greets, his voice snapping Merlin back to reality. He’s standing at a table over by the window, pulling medical supplies out of his bag and still leaning on that terrible cane. “I see you brought what I asked you to.” His attitude seems cordial enough, but even with everything going on in the room right now, Merlin can tell how upset he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got it right here,” Merlin says, trying to remain present. He makes his way over to Gaius, handing him the new cane with a shaky hand as another wave passes through him. He bears down, teeth clenched, trying not to move. Only, the more he resists, the more powerful the wave gets, still trying to pull him towards the bed. He can’t help but flinch on the next one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Gaius’ anger seems to lessen, eyes softening. He switches the new cane out for the old one and normally, Merlin would enjoy watching him appraise it, but there’s too much going on right now and he’s having difficulty focusing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gaius, I need to speak to you about something,” Merlin says, eyes flickering over to Arthur, who must’ve moved again as Merlin did. He’s by the bed now, standing over his own body like a statue, head tilted up and eyes glassy. “In private, please,” Merlin adds, trying to keep his voice even.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like Merlin could read Gaius’ anger earlier, Gaius must be able to read Merlin’s urgency because without argument, he turns to Leon and calmly says, “Merlin will assist me from here on out. You may resume your post.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leon looks apprehensive for a minute, but nonetheless nods and leaves the room without a word, shutting the door behind him. Another wave hits then, and Merlin almost collapses. Gaius reaches out to steady him, but Merlin ignores him in favor of leaning on the table nearby. It rattles under his weight, but it’s better than putting any more weight on Gaius.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, what on earth is going on?” Gaius asks. Now, Merlin can hear the urgency in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin just shakes his head. He can only focus on keeping himself upright as wave after powerful wave rush through him at full force. Still, he endeavors to watch Arthur, who’s still standing over his own body. Only now his gaze is pointed at Merlin, staring him down impatiently. It’s almost like he’s waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I’m a part of this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Merlin thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because I always have been.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin lets the wave pull him in, slowly joining Arthur by the bed. It’s like a key in a lock. Arthur moves, stretching his hand out the body before him and letting it settle flat atop it’s chest. When it makes contact, the waves begin to subside and the energy begins to funnel, collecting just under Arthur’s palm and glowing bright. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius gasps nearby. “What—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin ignores him, opting instead to follow Arthur’s lead, placing his hand right next to Arthur’s. The rest of the energy suddenly contracts and collects into </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>hand, light shining between his fingers. It’s so...</span>
  <em>
    <span>warm.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then it dissipates, growing weaker and weaker under his touch until it grows cold. A few moments later, a quick sting has both Merlin and Arthur pulling their hands away simultaneously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A rejection. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looks at his hand blankly, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he slowly starts to break from his trance. “Merlin, where are we?” he asks, looking to Merlin. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It reminds Merlin of that time in the meadow, in the beginning days when Arthur was just a scared prince, lost and struggling to remember his home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” Merlin falters, head shaking. Because he thought this was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>it—</span>
  </em>
  <span>the moment where he saves Arthur. But he failed…and he doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He turns to Gaius, a strange mixture of defeat and impatience filling his tone. Still, he says it steadily, “I need to know what happened to the prince.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then that the body starts convulsing. Merlin’s gaze instinctively snaps to Arthur, who flickers out and disappears.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, this one is a little bit short and a lotta bit late, but the next one will relatively soon and I believe the end is in sight, which is why I put down kind of a tentative total number of expected chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gaius spends the better part of the night calming the prince’s convulsions. Merlin does his best to help, which mostly comes in the form of running back and forth from the physician’s quarters collecting herbs and mixing them with very loose instructions. Merlin’s work must be to Gaius’ satisfaction, though, because by daybreak, the prince’s body is peaceful once again and he looks simply back to being asleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even after a few hours of this, Gaius still doesn’t offer any information, nor does he answer Merlin’s questions, but he doesn’t ask Merlin to leave, either, so he doesn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Merlin finds himself sitting at Arthur’s bedside, watching him. He watches the even rise and fall of his chest, the slight movement under his closed eyes, and the occasional, funny twitch of his nose. It stands as proof that he’s here and he’s safe and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if he’s not awake. Right now, Merlin thinks it might be the only thing that can keep the worry at bay, especially with his Arthur still missing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the rising sun casts a brighter light across the nearby window pane, Merlin soon notices that this Arthur is somewhat different than his. His hair longer and stubble shades under the curves of his cheekbones down to the line of his jaw. Aside from that, he looks restless, in a way—his eyes sunken with dark bags forming underneath and his face set with a frown. It’s almost as though all of this sleep has had no effect on him. Of course, the seizures may have contributed to that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing Merlin notices, oddly, are the burns. Healed enough to lay bare, they form feathery shapes, flicking up from the bottom of Arthur’s chest all the way to his jawline. It sends a flash of anger through Merlin, hostile and aggressive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could this have happened? From day one, Arthur made his “superior” fighting ability known. So who could’ve been so powerful as to take him on, to put him in this state, and most importantly, to keep Merlin’s magic from healing him? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to know what happened,” Merlin repeats his earlier statement aloud, finally breaking the hours-long silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a long, awkward space where nothing happens and when Merlin finally looks up, Gaius appears oddly unfazed. He raises a singular eyebrow and asks, “Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you need to know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looks to Arthur’s body, to his face, once again. Sometime during the night, the prince’s hair became partially clustered atop his forehead, plastered to the skin with sweat from all of the movement. Merlin gently brushes it out of the way and is suddenly struck, once again, by Arthur’s beauty, by his </span>
  <em>
    <span>realness</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right here</span>
  </em>
  <span> in front of Merlin, no longer just a ghost or someone in Merlin’s head. This is a real person, a real </span>
  <em>
    <span>prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> and more than that, a real </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, despite what Arthur may say. And he needs Merlin’s help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s body lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh at Merlin’s touch, but nonetheless resumes his restless slumber. Merlin looks back up to Gaius, who seems to have been watching him. He has an odd look on his face, one which Merlin can’t quite make out, but it’s gone before Merlin can truly try to decipher it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can see the prince,” Merlin says before he loses his nerve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius, seemingly unfazed, slowly raises an eyebrow then looks to the prince pointedly, as though to say, “As can I, he’s right there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not like that,” Merlin says, shaking his head. “I mean I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him even when I’m not in here. He appears to me, almost like a ghost—has for about a month now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. “And you can...</span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him right now?” Gaius asks, face still unreadable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Merlin says around the sudden lump in his throat. Clearing it, he continues, “No, I haven’t seen him since last night when the seizures started.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another pause.“You’re worried for him,” Gaius guesses. It’s not a question, but Merlin nods anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius then studies him for a long time, eyes discerning. He flicks his gaze once to the door and back to Merlin again, then nods once and without another word, stands up, using his new cane to help. Merlin suddenly feels a flash of panic and jumps up to…he doesn’t know what—help him, stop him from outing Merlin, make a run for it— but settles back down when Gaius puts out a placating hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’d be best if we continued this discussion back in my quarters,” Gaius whispers, looking to the door once again. “In case any prying ears might be listening.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does this mean you believe me?” Merlin asks. Gaius ignores him in favor of turning to pack his things. Merlin rushes to follow him. “Wait, what about Arthur? We can’t just leave him all alone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius’ eyes widen incrementally at Merlin’s casual use of the prince’s name, but he quickly recovers. “He’s been stable for a while now and someone should be around soon to attend him. They will send word of any changes in his status.” He pointedly looks back to Arthur’s still-calm body to validate his statement. “Also, after what I saw last night, I’m getting the impression that the prince’s ailments are a bit beyond my capabilities at this moment.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin has a million questions, but holds his tongue. Gaius is right, it’s best that they aren’t overheard. So, instead Merlin busies himself with helping Gaius finish packing and carrying his medical supplies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On their way out, Gaius offers goodbyes to the guards, who both wave in kind but ignore Merlin entirely. Leon goes far enough to openly leer at Merlin, no doubt still finding his odd and sudden appearance last night somewhat suspicious. Merlin doesn’t have the heart to worry about it, given the circumstances. If Leon heard anything, Merlin would have already been arrested by now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk back to Gaius’ quarters feels longer than it ever has, especially without Arthur there to fill the silence. Merlin half-expects him to suddenly appear, to berate Merlin for being so flippant with his magic and with his big secret, but he doesn’t. Merlin would take it, though. At this point, he’d put up with almost anything just to know that the prince is okay, even the worst of his whining and rude comments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And suddenly that worry Merlin’s been putting off all night begins to resurface, along with a sense of overwhelming confusion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It just doesn't make sense.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Last night, when he felt that magic and that warmth underneath his palm, he thought everything would be okay. He thought he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> save Arthur. Then, it rejected him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why?</span>
  </em>
  <span> If he wasn’t meant to save Arthur, then why has he been seeing him? And if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant to save him and Arthur is missing, does that mean Merlin really did fail, that he wasn’t strong enough? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And what if Arthur doesn’t come back? What if I’m the reason he doesn’t come back? What if it’s all my fault?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a loud smack, Merlin is jolted back into reality. Apparently he too was lost in spiralling thoughts to register their arrival at Gaius’ quarters. Gaius, himself, is already across the room by his little library, heavily stacking tome after tome onto a nearby table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin warily makes his way over to him. “What are you doing?” he asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m compiling every resource which may explain what you’ve been seeing,” Gaius says plainly, half distracted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> believe me,” Merlin asks, confirming what he already suspected, what he already hoped for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe that you are seeing something, yes,” Gaius explains apprehensively. “And I do believe that it has to be magical in nature. Whether that is the prince, a conjuring of the prince, or some sort of illusion casted by an enemy of Camelot, I’m not sure...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin jumps to deny the last two, but decides to let it go for now. “But you believe that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> seeing something?” he asks because that’s what matters right now. “You believe that I mean Arthur no harm, even after what happened last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I do,” Gaius says resolutely and without hesitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But...why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius takes a deep breath. “Well...because you had multiple chances to kill the prince in his chambers and you didn’t, because I strain to comprehend why you would lie about something so specific when it could hold such dire consequences for you, and mainly, because I would believe that King Uther, himself, was an evil sorcerer before I would believe that Hunith would raise her child to be anything but good—and send him here, even if he weren’t. Therefore, I decided quite quickly that whatever your intentions in Camelot may be, they must be benevolent.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Merlin is...touched. He’s touched that Gaius would think so highly of him, a virtual stranger, that he would believe Merlin without barely a speck of evidence to support his claims. More off, he’s touched at Gaius’ goodwill towards his mother, of his faith in her. A twinge of sadness strikes Merlin’s heart at the memory of her, of her absence, but it dissipates in the face of the much more pressing matter at hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plus,” Gaius adds on somewhat belatedly, “there seems to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>between the two of you. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but even with the prince in that state...there’s a familiarity there. That isn’t something that can be faked so easily, I suppose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin doesn’t know what to do with that statement, doesn’t know how to process it amongst all that’s been going on, so he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to thank Gaius, to thank him for </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the man has already turned back to sorting through his vast assortment of tomes. So, Merlin takes his answer for the gift it is, and sets forth perusing what  has already been laid out—collections regarding vengeful spirits, ghosts, reanimation spells, and necromancy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are so many of these about death?” Merlin asks. “Arthur isn’t dead. I saw him breathing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know he isn’t, but from the little you’ve told me and what I’ve inferred, this is the closest we can get—they’re the only books I have on discorporation, or a removal of one’s soul from their body. It shouldn’t necessarily matter if the body is dead or not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nods. At one point, even he thought that Arthur might’ve been an actual ghost sent to haunt him for whatever reason. Perhaps there’s some sort of connection there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Gaius continues, “maybe if you told me about how this all started, or about what happened last night, then I could more accurately find what we need…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if you tell me what happened to Arthur,” Merlin shoots back, growing a bit tired of Gaius’ seemingly sporadic aloofness and general lack of answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius frowns, almost as though he was hoping Merlin forgot. He drops one last book onto the pile before taking a seat on a patient bed nearby. After a moment of contemplation, he nods, then prefaces, “I assume if the prince had any memory of what happened that night, then he would be able to tell you what happened…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All he remembers is some sort of celebration, which we found out from Gwen was the celebration of the purge on magic in Camelot,” Merlin says with a bitter taste in his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I know you know of the sorceress’ attack from our conversation earlier...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nods. “But I’m just not sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> she attacked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius sighs deeply. “A couple of days before the celebration, her son was executed for using sorcery to yield better crops. Uther burned him at the stake, along with his unharvested plants, claiming to ‘purify the land of evil, down to the deepest root.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin bites his tongue, still-raw from yesterday’s council meeting, tasting blood once again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius continues on with a knowing look, “After the fire died down and the embers stomped out, the sorceress proclaimed her vengeance on the king…and on the prince. Perhaps we should have heeded her warning more. There is rarely a power strong enough to battle a mother’s love for her child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Or a child’s love for his mother.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Merlin finishes automatically. He’s hit with another pang of sadness, only not just for himself, but for Arthur, who only seems to have a tyrant for a father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, she decided she wanted an eye for an eye,” Merlin guesses. “A son for a son.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaius nods. “And she wanted Arthur to burn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So that explains the scorch marks in Arthur’s chambers and the burns on his skin. A sick feeling settles in Merlin’s chest, one he can’t entirely describe. “But why didn’t he die?” Merlin asks. The fire most certainly reached him, so how did he survive? His eyes widen. “Morgana. She caught her, didn’t she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>listening earlier,” Gaius guesses, as though he already suspected it, but he doesn’t look particularly angry about it, his face bearing only slight exasperation and a tinge of...sadness. It makes sense, given the topic. From what Merlin observed last night, Gaius must care for Morgana a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard her say that she saw the sorceress,” Merlin says, treading lightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She did, indeed,” Gaius says. “A terrible sight. The best we could estimate was that the sorceress cast some sort of sleeping spell on the prince before she started the fire. Perhaps it was meant to be a small mercy, or perhaps it was just so that he couldn’t get away. Either way, Morgana had to see him helpless to the flames surrounding him. It was her scream that alerted the nearby guards. She was found huddled on the floor, scorch marks fraying the edge of her dress. She hasn’t been the same since.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Merlin says, somber. “And what of the sorceress?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dead,” Gaius says. “Burned by her own flames. I suspect it was her plan all along, to kill Arthur and then...join her son, so to speak. Also, for most magic users, casting a spell that size is exhausting. She may not have had the energy to escape, anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin gets the urge to laugh, which feels very grim. It’s just...lighting things on fire with magic is something he could probably do in his sleep. And when he was very young, he did. They went away after a while, but for a period of time, his mother kept emergency pails of water around the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin wants to ask Gaius more. He wants to ask about what Morgana meant by, “him,” and how she knew to go to Arthur’s chambers that night, and what it all has to do with her nightmares. Only, he’s afraid if he pushes too much, Gaius might shut him down or ignore him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So is that why he’s like this?” Merlin asks. “Arthur, I mean. He’s still under some sort of sleeping spell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is the assumption that I’ve been working under,” Gaius says. “But recently, with you here, I’m not so sure. Although, it would help to know everything…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin takes the cue for what it is and starts from the beginning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And as he does, he begins to realize that there isn’t much to say. Merlin supposes that this whole thing has been as much of a mystery to him as it would be to Gaius, and there isn’t much information to supplement. Nonetheless, he makes efforts to spare no detail, even telling Gaius his theory of Arthur sticking around the closer they got to his body, an idea which has pretty much been solidified after what happened last night. Gaius sits through this with an almost studious look. His eyes light up during specific beats in the story, notably at Merlin’s theory, as well as at the mention of the minimal distance they can travel away from one another, but he keeps his comments to himself until Merlin finishes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It seems that there’s some sort of magical bond between the two of you,” Gaius says. “Almost like Arthur’s very soul is tethered to yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That deep voice in his head calls, almost crooning</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But why? And why me?” Merlin asks, trying not to flinch. With all of his explaining, he decided not to tell Gaius about the voice in his head, once again not wanting to push it too far and lose his help. Even Arthur seemed put off by it. “I’m a no one from a farming village in another kingdom. Why would the prince of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Camelot</span>
  </em>
  <span> be bonded to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of that I am not entirely sure. Perhaps it’s because of your powerful magic, or maybe for some reason, a bond already existed between you before any of this happened,” Gaius says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shakes his head. He still doesn’t get it. Magic or not, it just doesn’t make sense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or perhaps destiny has brought you two together for some reason,” Gaius continues. “Maybe it was always fated that you two would meet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice calls again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am growing tired of waiting. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It says finally before fizzling out. Merlin just barely has enough time to process all of it before Arthur appears before him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur!” Merlin can’t help but laugh out of pure relief at the sight of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin?” Arthur asks, confused. “What’s going on? What happened?” He looks all around, trying to catalogue his surroundings. “How did we get back here?” To perhaps anyone else, he would seem calm and collected, but Merlin can hear the panic setting in his voice, can see the slight heaviness of his breathing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take it he's returned safely, then,” Gaius says with a pleased smile. “Wonderful!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s eyes snap to Gaius and he instinctively steps in front of Merlin, as though he’s going to protect him from the old man, who has already returned to perusing through his collection. Arthur turns back to give Merlin a wild look. “You told him? Have you lost your </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Merlin says, keeping his voice calm. He puts out a placating hand, stepping around Arthur to address him face to face and Arthur’s eyes lock to his form. “Gaius is trying to help us. He believes me and he wants to help us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My assistance would be made more useful if you could enlighten me more on your condition, though, my Lord,” Gaius chimes in from behind Merlin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Merlin says one last time. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay.” Arthur’s nods, eyes searching Merlin’s as his breathing evens out. And Merlin is suddenly hit with this strong swell of emotion, one which feels even more powerful than the magic he felt last night. It’s a potent mixture of the stress and magic and exhaustion and the thought that Arthur could be gone forever finally releasing from his system. His eyes start to prickle against his will and he finds that all he wants to do right now is wrap Arthur up in his arms, close his eyes and bask in his warmth. He thinks it might be the only thing that could bring him relief, bring him comfort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when did he get so lost over some prince in his head? Maybe it was the thought of losing him that did it. Maybe it was done a long time ago. Maybe, as Gaius said, it was always meant to be done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looks at him with an unreadable expression. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, then takes a deep, calming breath, and finally opens them. “Okay, what did I miss?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always you can find me at @arthurandhisswordbros on tumblr! Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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